Page:To Bourkes Statue.djvu/15

 Whose deep drawn sighs (unlike thy beard) have grown To echo Werter’s sorrows, with thine own— What though you tire the nobblerising throng With fragments dragging their slow length along, For lack of eloquence, shall worth atone, Your mein is manly and your mind your own.—

Bear with me Rufus, I would tribute pay Ere yet I terminate my transient lay, To noble candour, honesty of heart, One framed to exercise a beiter part— Oh know thyself—timidly eschew, What virtue prompts dont hesitate to do Avoid cabals, the cliques of vicious clime Await the advent of a better time, With genius bonnd, and manhood gone to grass If vice don’t prosper, write me down an ass.—

Come generous Bland the good, the kind, the friend, In whom a host of genuine virtues blend How loud erst while thy voice in stern debate Controlled the Council or opposed tho State, Why hast thou slumbered? to when Australia’s prow Moored to the shore confronts thy frosty pow While tim’rous pilot dreads to launch the boat Which craven crimped crew could not set afloat— What crotchet now inflames your vivid brain? Steam o’er the calm and face the breeze again Heed not the chilliness of nobs grown cold Time may destroy, but cannot make you old.

Up puppet vender, play the marionette Your mighty passions, puff in constant fret At silly trifles, Gabo and its oil May they in turgid indignation boil——— Oi polloi crawlers claim their hideous God A grateful “Empire” breathes but at his nod, Vulgarity of person, action, soul, Proves him not ablest, that may reach the goal—